


thus wide i'll ope my arms

by ERNest



Series: Put Me In Your Heart For Friend [2]
Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Hands, M/M, Meaningful Touches, Mutually Beneficial Propositions, start of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26183998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ERNest/pseuds/ERNest
Summary: Though he smiled at the burn of the alcohol, Laertes saw more than a hint of a grimace in the amused lift of his eyebrows, and he told himself that flash of vulnerability was the only reason he hadn’t stormed away yet from this ridiculous offer. “You are an incredibly attractive young man, and I’d like to see what we could do together when I take my time with you."
Relationships: Claudius/Laertes (Hamlet)
Series: Put Me In Your Heart For Friend [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901488
Kudos: 1





	thus wide i'll ope my arms

“I would like,” said the Danish king, “to take you to my bed.” His hands spread wide across the table, and when he picked up the tumbler his fingers tapped against the glass in a rhythm impossible to look away from.

Laertes, remembering that same rhythm on the barrel of a gun, remembering how smoothly and casually those fingers buttoned up his jacket afterward, set his own tumbler down with perhaps too much force. He rolled his shoulders back to reestablish his own strength and stared him down but Claudius, to his credit, neither blinked nor squirmed under his gaze.

“No, I mean it,” he added after a while when Laertes continued to say nothing. Though he smiled at the burn of the alcohol, Laertes saw more than a hint of a grimace in the amused lift of his eyebrows, and he told himself that flash of vulnerability was the only reason he hadn’t stormed away yet from this ridiculous offer. “You are an incredibly attractive young man, and I’d like to see what we could do together when I take my time with you. More to the point, I—” He frowned, choosing his words with care, but if it were to better craft a lie or to find a path from his heart to his lips, he could not guess. “I would commune with your grief, Laertes. I will give it an outlet if I can and, that done, give you some new focus, else your sorrow is bound to overpeer its list and swallow the flatlands of your heart. _Believe_ me, I have seen it happen before.”

“If you think, oh king, that this will convince me you did not kill my father or that I could be so easily compelled to forget, you understand little about love or family or the world — or _me_. And if you understand me not, why would I let you—”

“Nay, good Laertes!” Claudius lifted a hand to calm him, and despite his sharp inclinations he felt himself settled by it. “The _facts_ are what will convince you that I did not kill your father — those, and all your wisest friends. Nor would I have you forget him — if I asked that of you, you would be free to despise me.” His fingers stirred the air and then he nodded to himself before he pressed his palm to Laertes’s shoulder and pushed him back in his seat. “But you cannot be thinking of your loss all the time. No one could. Taking your pleasure where you can does not make you a worse son.”

Laertes struggled against that hand, and felt that with a little more effort he _could_ escape its tightly coiled strength, felt that Claudius would let him go if he only asked. He could not put in the effort to break free, when more than the restraint he struggled against the idea of putting his sadness on a shelf, even for a time. How could it _not_ be a betrayal of his father’s memory to find comfort anywhere, even somewhere less volatile than the bed of a king? Wasn’t this yet more poison poured into his ears to make him lose sight of himself and his true purpose?

It would have been silly and childish to cover his ears to shut out what the king was saying to him, especially now that he had fallen silent. But Laertes could shut his eyes to stop seeing that patiently searching gaze. In fact he _had_ to stop looking or there was no telling what he’d do next, and he had to hold to his purpose. He felt his forehead tighten and forced himself to relax, but he could only do that by releasing some of the fury that fueled him, that gave him his focus but made it hard to focus. Now then, _what_ was his purpose here?

He had to honor his father’s memory by getting revenge on whichever villain had murdered him, but he also had to _remember_ his father, lest he forget. He almost had to count himself lucky that his father left behind him almost nothing _but_ words, prating and foolish as they often were, because they were pieces of himself. Laertes muttered to himself and tried to recollect their last conversation, hoping for anything that might guide him and sorry for the first time that with better heed and judgment he had not quoted him.

‘The apparel oft proclaims the man,’ was the first thing that came to mind, which didn’t help but _did_ remind him how tight his collar was, how suffocating his task. But he couldn’t even do anything about it without looking like an invitation, and it was dangerous to invite something so overwhelming without being certain of his path. He wanted to, was the problem, wanted to welcome something that could be _so good_ for him if he let it. ‘Nor any unproportioned thought his act,’ he reminded himself, hand in a fist and father’s voice in his head.

Laertes tried his best to ignore the constriction of his shirt and breathe normally but he just felt so angry, so useless, and there was no use even in trying. The hand which he _allowed_ to keep him in place should have been but one more fetter put upon him, yet in a world gone too free footed, it seemed the only thing that wasn’t a cage. Claudius moved his thumb in small circles which somehow relieved a line of tension he hadn’t known was piercing him through. It was a struggle not to press forward into that touch, but surely it wouldn’t be so bad to fall back a little more and let it continue. Because it was true: so much defiant fury was _exhausting_ and if he kept it up for much longer he might not be _able_ to regain the energy he was going to need later on.

“Hah…” said the king, almost to himself. He must have just discovered something new about Laertes, but possibly a thing he’d suspected already. His hand crept up to curl over Laertes’ shoulder, where his fingers worked the muscles more boldly. His hands really were beautiful, even unseen, and they fit his body beautifully.

‘Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel,’ Laertes thought, and while this man was too dangerous and too powerful to ever rightly be called a friend, it might be better to keep him close enough to watch what his hands were doing. So he shrugged, not enough to shake Claudius away, and turned his head so when he opened his eyes it would be the hand he saw and not the face. If his hand _felt_ like it fit him, that was nothing to what a beautiful picture it made there. They really could do something good together, if they had the time to take their time.

It wasn’t enough for him to agree just yet, but it was enough for him to follow the line of his arm and look at him face to face. He expected to see a smirk, or else a smolder, so he wasn’t prepared for the frank expression of concern he found instead. His eyes were not tender, they’d have no reason to be, but they were somehow softer than the face he wore as king, and Laertes felt himself soften in response. He didn’t need concern from anyone, didn’t want it, but it was something he could use, and he intended to.

He lifted his chin and maintained eye contact as he released his collar, and waited to be sure his choler had released him. Then, feeling less stifled than he had in the whole time since learning of his father’s death, he said, “A bed is just a bed. It is not a replacement for my true satisfaction. I _mean_ it when I say that I will be revenged.”

“Most thoroughly,” agreed the Danish king. “You may not trust me, but fear me not.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Laertes/Claudius dynamic here comes from their _incredible_ and instant chemistry in the [Bethany Lutheran College](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zz6GL6AFphU) production of Hamlet from 2013. If you want to see an amazingly complex and thoughtful Claudius with a fondness for firearms and the most religiously anguished chapel scene possible, then this is the production for you! And then go watch [kylee's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylee/pseuds/kylee) Claudius fanvid set to [Modern Day Cain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074198) and fall in love with him a second time :D


End file.
